


Harper's Threat

by InkSiren



Series: Sharpe's Fanfic [8]
Category: Sharpe (TV), Sharpe - All Media Types, Sharpe Series - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: And he needs a break, Angst, Banter, Gen, Patrick is the mom friend, Team as Family, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSiren/pseuds/InkSiren
Summary: Patrick is about done twice over with Richard risking himself.
Series: Sharpe's Fanfic [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034673





	Harper's Threat

"So help me God if you don't start taking more care I'll have to knock you down myself. You could at least do up your damned coat."

Richard ran a hand through his hair and straightened up, leaning on his rifle as he recovered from the sudden adrenaline. He didn't even quite know what almost hit him that time, only that something had and Patrick had tackled him to prevent it. Already the fight was dying down, commanders pulling back and leaving a sudden void of peace where the men had nowhere to direct the haze of battle but towards each other. 

"You did knock me down Pat," he spat, rolling one shoulder with a wince. 

"And I'll apologize soon as I do it for some reason besides you being a bloody fool. It's like you want some frog's bullet in your belly, the way you bolt around with your uniform half done."

"You're out here too," Richard retorted, gesturing across the field. "So's Hagman, and Harris. We all took the same shilling. You're no safer than I so what're you yelling at me for?"

"I'm not making myself a bloody target," Patrick shouted, gesturing across the field. 

"It's bloody hot and a few bits of cloth aren't going to stop me getting killed," Sharpe snapped, furiously checking over his rifle and spitting a glob of dirt and blood onto the ground. 

Patrick grabbed his coat then, and Richard snarled, pulling back unsuccessfully from the Irishman's grip. 

"It did last time, sir. It did last time."

Richard looked down at the poorly stitched hole still visible on his left breast as Patrick let him go and he worked his jaw. 

"You can't always stop me getting shot," he said finally, quietly. "Drive yourself mad trying."

"Then guess I'll be mad, and I'll have you to blame, won't I?" 

Richard huffed a gutted laugh and sighed, sitting on the offal of a tree newly felled by cannon. 

"I guess you will, Pat."

Patrick snorted and thudded down next to him, wiping sweat with his jacket sleeve and leaning on the volley gun balanced across his knees. "You know, if there were a way, I'd have plucked your heart myself a while back and kept it in my pocket for safe keeping till you learn you need it beating."

Richard laughed properly at that, turning a bright smile on Patrick that made it royally difficult to maintain his glower. 

"Is that right? And what better good is your pocket going to do to protect it than my ribcage?"

"I'm not going to leap about where my pocket's easily shot at," Patrick said testily. 

"Aye alright Pat you've made your point. Been thinking about that since that horrid business with El Casco have you?"

"It were what gave me the idea, aye," he admitted, a small smile of his own. "Was better than imagining the alternative."

Richard made a face. "I'd rather not imagine it at all."

Patrick glanced over, taking in the site of Richard's jacket still open and his bare skin streaked with sweat. "Hard not to, sir. Once that image was in my head, all I could seem to do was make the best of it."

They sat in silence for a while, drinking from canteens and recovering before Richard shook his head and thumped Patrick good-naturedly on the back. "You don't need to worry about my heart Sergeant Harper. It's perfectly safe where it is, so long's I've you to tackle me."


End file.
